In a low voice that was almost a whisper, Maisie told me, "I saw the ghost of Misty Sabatino."

Goosebumps rose in a rapid wave up the back of my neck and both my arms.

---

 
25. And Then What Happened?
 

Monday morning I woke early, before the sun came up. It was dark, but I knew exactly where I was. In the past three weeks, I'd slept in how many beds? I counted four: in Aunt Jane's house, in Dad's tiny apartment, in our new house, and here at Maisie's house.

I lay there in the dark, enjoying the silence, until the sky began to lighten. That meant it was six-thirty. I got up quietly, showered and put on my school uniform. It seemed so bizarre to be going back to school: the weekend with Ida had been so full, so much fun, that I felt as if I'd been away for a month. School was like a distant memory — it just didn't seem real.

It had been a great weekend. I'd finally relaxed, unwound. I was SO GLAD to not be working on the house or cleaning, and I had a great time with Ida.

I really did. Even with the weird breakdown scene at the mall, when I had to listen to her story, I really liked Ida.

At the same time, I was more confused than ever about the Maisie-Ida conflict. After spending time with Ida, I liked her. A lot. I wanted to spend more time with her, but that would be difficult with Maisie's — apparently justified — negativity.

I pushed it from my mind. I wasn't going to solve it by thinking about it. Maybe I could talk to Susan... she always had an idea... she might have some way of figuring it all out, and maybe finding a way to fix it.

If it could be fixed.

BUT ANYWAY, enough about that! I pushed it from my mind and got out of bed.

After washing my face and dressing, I carried my suitcase and my backpack downstairs and left them by the door. Then I set up the coffeemaker for Ida, made myself some cereal and and poured a glass of juice. She came in, wrapped in her bathrobe, just as I sat down to eat.

"Hey, there, kiddo," she said in a soft voice. She gave me a gentle hug, and a kiss on the top of my head before she clicked the coffeemaker on. She listened to its strange hissy gurgles for a while, then quickly pulled out the pot and stuck her mug into the dark stream.

"Ahh!" she sighed as she took her first sip. "There is nothing — absolutely nothing — like that very first sip of coffee in the morning." She cradled the mug with both hands to enjoy the warmth of it. Then she set it on the table and reached over to rub my arm. Her hand was pleasantly warm.

"It's been so nice having you here," she said. "It makes me feel like a normal mother again."

I smiled by way of response.

"I was talking to your real mother last night on the phone, and she wondered whether we'd want to do this again next weekend."

"Really?" I squeaked. "I'd love to!"

She smiled and pulled me into a hug. "Oh, I'm so glad!" she said. She kept on hugging me, and I hugged her right back. She was a much better hugger than Mom, who tended to smother me when we hugged.

When Ida let me go, she continued with what she was saying, "Apparently they got so much done around the house, that they want to keep going next weekend too."

"Yeah, Maisie told me that they hung all the curtains, and she said they were going to paint my room."

"They painted a lot more than your room," Ida said. "It looks like your mother and my daughter are an unstoppable team. Your father had to leave the house on Sunday afternoon and go sleep in his car somewhere. It was the only way he could get any rest!"

"My God!" I cried.

Ida shrugged and laughed. "To each her own," she said, and wagged her newly-painted nails at me with a grin. "Next weekend, makeup!"

I smiled and wagged my newly-painted nails back at her.

---

 

Later, in homeroom, I looked at the flecks of color on Maisie's arms and in her hair. "Which one is the color of my room?" I asked.

She grinned and scanned her forearms. At last she settled on a dot of blue. "It's this one. Tropical Blue."

I stared at it, but couldn't get a good idea of how it would look on a wall.

"You'll see it tonight," she said. "And with the curtains... très magnifique!"

"Excellent pronounciation, Maisie," Mrs. Wix interrupted, "but this is English class. We're about to begin."

"Very magnificent!" Maisie quipped, and we got to work.

---

 

On the way to the cafeteria, Susan said she wasn't hungry and went off to the library.

"What's eating her?" Maisie asked me.

"I think it's the mom swap," I said. "She got all quiet and distant when we were talking about it."

Maisie frowned, uncomprehending.

I raised my eyebrows at her, disbelieving.

"What!?" Maisie demanded. "I don't get it!"

I sighed. "If Susan asked you to swap moms with her, what would you say?"

"No friggin' way!"

"Right," I nodded. "She'd like some of the freedom we have."

"I see," Maisie said, nodding. "That's very astute of you, Miss Donner."

---

 

After we got our food and sat down at our table, Maisie gasped and said, "Oh, I can't believe I forgot to tell you!"

"What?" I asked.

In a low voice that was almost a whisper, Maisie told me, "I saw the ghost of Misty Sabatino."

Goosebumps rose in a rapid wave up the back of my neck and both my arms.

"I was sound asleep, and she woke me up," Maisie continued. "She was staring at me with these great big eyes, and she said, What are you doing in my room?"

I was thunderstruck, and it took a few moments before I knew what to say. "And then what happened?"

"At first I thought it was a dream, you know? I figured that maybe I was still asleep." She snapped off the end of a baby carrot with her teeth and munched it loudly as she spoke. "But she didn't go away. She just kind of stood there in a floaty way, and she was sort of transparent."

My mouth hung open. "And then what happened?"

"She said, This is MY room! Get out of my room! You're not supposed to be here!"

My heart was pounding. This was my bedroom, my house, she was talking about. What was going to happen to me tonight?

"Maisie," I asked, "Were you scared? What did you do?" It was like pulling teeth, getting the story out of her!

Maisie assumed a very cocky look and — after several open-mouthed chews of her carrot — replied, "I told her to eff off!"

My jaw dropped. "You did? What did she do?"

"I said, Back off, ghost girl! You don't scare me!"

I stared into Maisie's face. I couldn't believe she'd been so bold! "Maisie, the suspense is killing me! What happened next?"

"She... she...," Maisie made a strange face, as if she was going to sneeze, but was trying to fight it. "I told her..." Maisie's face contorted again, and I was confused. She sucked in her lips, as if she was biting them.

She shut her eyes for a moment.

Then she exploded into shrieks of laughter.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "If you could see your face!" She imitated my stupidly gaping amazement, then burst into laughter once more. "If you hadn't made that goofy face, I could have strung you along the whole lunch period!"

"Oh, Maisie, sometimes you're such a jerk," I said, in an irritated tone.

"How can you be so gullible?" she retorted, "You really thought I saw a ghost?" For the rest of lunch period she let out snorts and giggles every few minutes.

A few times she started going woooo in a ghostly tone, but broke off in laughter.

I *so* wanted to smack her.

---

 

What happened next was so predictable, I should have seen it coming.

Well, not next next, but the thing *after* the next thing.

---

 

When I got home, I was amazed at how different everything was. The living room was completely done: all the furniture in place, rugs on the floor, curtains on the windows, and the walls were a pale, uh... "What color is that, Mom?"

"Salmon. A very light salmon. Maisie and I mixed it ourselves, actually."

Nearly the whole first floor was painted, and there were curtains on every window. The transformation was astounding. "It must have been a lot of work!"

Mom stared at me, her hands on her hips. "Yes, my real daughter, it was."

"Hey!" I protested, "I... and you and she..."

Mom waved away my protests. "It's all right," she said, as if to say I forgive you for running off and having fun while I was slaving for you.

"Still," she continued, "I have to say that your friend worked awfully hard in a house that is not even hers..."

She likes doing that stuff! I thought, but managed to bite my tongue. "Do you want me to stay home next weekend and work around here with you?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Mom replied. "I saw how you were last weekend, dragging around, doing as little as possible, moaning and groaning the whole time ..."

"Mom! I worked my butt off!"

She smiled, and was about to say something, but then she beckoned me into one of her smothering hugs. I took a deep breath and went in.

---

 

On the other hand...

What they'd done to my bedroom absolutely blew me away. The bed was covered by a white spread that I think I've seen before. The walls were this amazing blue: Maisie had called it "Tropical Blue." It did make me think of a deep blue tropical sea (although I've never seen one in real life). The curtains were two kinds of green in long thick vertical bands. Mom told me the exact colors: teal and lime green, and the way the four colors went together was simply amazing. A boy would never live with these colors: this was a real, bona fide, teenage girl's room.

"I love it!" I shouted. "It's fantastic!"

Mom was very pleased with my reaction, and she said, "It's not done yet!" with a little smile.

---

 

Although I haven't lived in this house very long, I felt like I was finally back in my own bed, and was so tired that I fell deeply asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The bed was my old bed, and the pillow was my old pillow... even so, they seemed fresh and new, and at the same time completely familiar and comfortable.

I lay in a profound, dreamless sleep that seemed to last forever...

... until exactly 2:15 in the morning, when my eyes snapped open. A pale but pretty girl was bending over my bed. Her eyes were open as high as they could go, and her expression was one of timid curiosity.

"Who are you?" she asked me. "Why are you here?"

I tried to respond, but panicked: the words caught in my throat. A wave of fear washed over me, and I clutched my blanket desperately with both hands.

There was no need to ask who she was: I recognized her right away.

She was Misty Sabatino.

© 2007 Kaleigh Way